Searching for Joseph Jonas
by ChandyAlwaysKnows
Summary: Julie Beckham, a psychiatrist's daughter, finds herself becoming fascinated by one of her father's troubled patients - none other than Joseph Adam Jonas. He has his guard up, but Julie finds herself too enthralled to let him go. Better than it sounds! R
1. Chapter 1

The waiting room was on the verge of emptiness. The only people left in the virtually lonely room were two ladies, neither with a smile on her face. One was Morgan, my father's young secretary, who was tiredly staring at the computer screen while smacking on her hour-old gum. The other woman I didn't recognize, and seeing as it was late and closing hours for the office were soon, I ruled her out as one of my dad's patients. So of course the first question that crossed my mind was: _Who was she?_

I slowly made my way up to Morgan's desk, avoiding the other woman's penetrating stare. I awkwardly leaned forward against the front desk when Morgan looked up at me, surprised, as if she hadn't noticed me enter the room. Knowing Morgan, that wasn't too surprising. It was late and she was clearly already out of it.

"Hi, Jools," Morgan signed, most of her words trapped in a huge yawn. "Your dad should be finished up soon. Last patient…" she yawned again. "…should be right out." I stifled a chuckle at how tired she was.

"How long do you think it'll be?" I asked quietly, hyperaware that the other woman probably didn't want to be bothered with a loud conversation at such a late hour. 

"Um…" Morgan's gave lazily shifted to her computer screen. "…he should have been out like ten minutes ago." I sighed and looked over at the door that led down to my dad's office. I never liked looking at the plate mounted on the door: **Dr. Benjamin Beckham, M.D**. It was just so weird thinking that my dad was a psychiatrist that dealt with crazy people for a living. It was just hard to wrap my head around.

"Do you think I should go in and tell him it's time to go…?" I asked. I knew that his patient was probably having a rough time, but enough was enough. I didn't want to hang around the waiting room for an hour so some old man could blubber to my dad about his troubles. 

Morgan shook her head. "It's okay, that's my job," she said, reaching over her empty coffee mug for the intercom. She pressed down on the button lightly and leaned her face into the speaker.

"Dr. Beckham?" We waited in silence for a while until he answered.

"Yes, Morgan?"

"Your daughter's here. It's ten after," Morgan said, stifling yet another yawn. I smiled.

"Oh, really? I'm afraid we must have lost track of time. Thank you, Morgan. We'll be right out." That was just like my dad to get too wrapped in his sessions to realize it was nearing midnight.

"Thanks," I said to Morgan, walking over to the door so I could wait for my dad and his patient to walk in. About two minutes later, the door opened and a tall figure stood very close to me in the walkway.

"Oh, sorry," he said. His voice was deep, but young at the same time. He couldn't have been a day over 20, probably a little younger. Dark locks of shaggy hair fell into his light brown eyes as he glanced at me for a short moment. He whipped his head to the side, moving his hair out of his face, and continued walking away. The exchange lasted for less than a second, but it was enough for me to notice that he was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

I watched him cross the room to the other woman, who stood up and smiled at him. It was almost a sad smile, and if smiles could talk, hers was silent. There was obvious tension between the two of them as she handed him his light beige leather jacket and sighed quietly. She was most likely his mother.

"Ready to go, Julie?" a voice behind me said. I reluctantly tore my eyes away from the boy and his mom to look at my dad. The bags under his eyes were a light shade of purple and his light green eyes were glazed over from a lack of sleep. I smiled and nodded at him, angling myself for the door, when a voice interrupted the silence.

"Dr. Beckham, would you mind if I had a word with you? I promise, it'll be quick…" It was the gorgeous boy's mom, who had magically materialized not even five feet away from us. Her expression was slightly distraught, so I didn't mind joining Morgan off to the side while she talked with my dad. But mostly I just stared at my dad's handsome patient as he waited for his mom to stop talking, too.

He was wearing an ivory v-neck sweater, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. It fit him snugly, emphasizing his muscular chest and I could even see the tendons and muscles of his forearms standing out under his lightly tanned skin. The boy's prominent jaw was clenched slightly. I was pointedly staring at him, and praying to God that he didn't notice because I couldn't seem to make myself look away.

The time it took for his mom and my dad to wrap up their conversation passed much more quickly than I would have liked. She gestured for him to follow her, and he did wordlessly, not giving anyone else in the room a second glance. I was thankful for that, at least.

After telling Morgan a short goodbye, Dad and I silently made our way out to the parking garage, where he slid into the passenger seat of my car with a sleepy groan. I started up the car and drove for about two minutes before I brought up any conversation.

"Who was that guy?" I asked coolly. I adjusted my mirror in a strange attempt to seem uninterested, but I'm sure he didn't fall for it.

"Who?"

"Your patient… the one that you talked with for an extra _ten minutes_," I added, avoiding looking at my dad. He sighed and I heard him sit up in his seat.

"Julie, you know I'm not supposed to talk with you about my patients…"

"I know, I know," I said, glancing at him for less than a second. "You can't even tell me his name, though?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I just do," I said. "I just want to know his name, Dad. It's not as if I'm asking for his social security number and blood type."

Dad kept quiet. I rolled my eyes and continued driving, making a full mile before he said anything. "His name is Joseph."

"Joseph…" I repeated. "Is he crazy?"

Dad laughed. "I thought you only wanted his name!" I smiled and gave him a look, urging him to answer my question. "I don't think he's crazy. No."

"You don't _think_ he's crazy? As in there is, like, a slim chance that he is?"

"Very, very slim."

"How old is he?" I asked. I didn't want to seem nosy, like I was interested, but in all honesty… I was very interested. I had no idea as to why, though.

"What's with all the questions?" Dad asked. I only shrugged in response. "He's eighteen. Does it matter?"

"I guess not… What did his mother want to talk to you about?"

"That's enough questions, Julie," he said. I stared ahead at the road, squinting into the red tail lights. I wanted to know more, but Dad had built up a brick wall two feet thick, and I was too weak to tear it down. That was all that he was going to say about Joseph.

For that night.


	2. Chapter 2

Searching for Joseph Jonas

Chapter Two

"What are you looking at?" I asked the next morning. My dad was sitting behind his laptop with a thoughtful frown, his headphones clamped over his ears. He obviously didn't hear my question, because he didn't even glance up at me. I lifted one of his headphones let it rebound back into his head. He turned around to look at me, his eyes tired and pensive.

"What did you say?"

"I asked what you were looking at," I said quietly, falling into the chair next to him at the dining room table. I peered over his shoulder at the screen. "Are you on youtube?"

"Yeah," Dad said, not taking his gaze away from the screen. He was watching a music video in all black and white. Of course, I couldn't hear the music, but I could hear a slight buzz of music coming from the headphones Dad had lowered to the table.

"Who are the Jonas Brothers?" I asked, reading the information to the right of the video. Dad pushed the lap top so it faced me, and then stood up to walk into the kitchen with his mug of coffee. "Dad?"

"Just watch."

Confused, I turned my focus back to the music video. A boy with dark, wiry curls was in the frame now, sitting at a purely white piano, singing his heart out for a huge crowd of frantic girls. My eyes fell on a girl with a poster who was jumping up and down as if her life depended on it, screaming until her lungs were in danger of bleeding. 

The picture changed to a new face. It was a familiar face, a face that had been imprinted in my mind for the past ten hours (and I had still yet to figure out why). It was [ihim./i 

Joseph was singing, too, into a black wireless microphone that grazed his bottom lip as he swayed to the music. He was just as good looking as I remembered, if not more so. 

"What is this?" I called out to my dad, who I could still see through the doorway that led into the kitchen. He glanced at me and told me that they were the Jonas Brothers and that they were famous. He didn't say anything else.

"So this Joseph guy is…"

"Famous, yes," Dad said, picking up the mug of coffee he had just refilled and rejoining me in the dining room. "He and his three brothers, apparently."

"So... why are you looking at this?" I asked. Normally Dad didn't look into his patients' personal lives, so he could study them only in their sessions. Doing a youtube background check on this Joseph Jonas was out of the ordinary for him, to say the least.

"Do you remember last night, when his mother asked to talk to me after the session?" 

"Yes…"

"She wants me to come along with the band on their summer tour… She's afraid Joseph is troubled enough that he'll need someone to talk to during the next three months, and so she's asked me to come…" My jaw dropped slightly. I wasn't quite sure whether I should be excited for my father or totally upset.

"…Are you going to go, Dad?" I asked. He exhaled loudly and nodded.

"He's my most needy patient. I can't abandon him now."

That statement stuck with me. The word didn't seem to click with the impression I formed of the boy I'd gaped at last night. He had seemed so well put together and confident… not needy by any means. He didn't seem like one that could be easily abandoned. My dad made him sound like a helpless baby, and that just didn't seem plausible to me at all.

"Can I come with you?"

Dad was not the only one surprised by that request. I hadn't even been aware at all that I'd been thinking of asking until the words came out of my mother. I wasn't even sure it had really been me that said it, but it sounded like me. My dad stared at me.

"Julie, that's probably not the best idea…"

"Why not?" I asked, surprising myself yet again. My mouth had taken on a mind of its own. "It's summer and I have nothing better to do."

Dad shook his head, "No, Julie. This is my job, I can't…"

"I could keep you company."

"Julie, I said no," he said. But I smiled faintly anyway. I could tell by the stressed look on his face that he was honestly considering the thought.

"Please, Dad," I said quietly. "Can you just ask if I can come? See what they say?"

"Julie--"

"What will it hurt? I promise I won't get in the way…" Why was I trying so hard to get my father to allow me to come with him? As much as I hated to admit it, it was not because I wanted to be with my Daddy for three months.

It's because I needed an excuse to see him. Talk to him, if I could. The reason behind that, however, was still a mystery.

Dad opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated for a moment before any words came out, "I'll call, but if they say no, that's the end of it. Understand?" I grinned and nodded happily, reaching over to the leaf table and snatching up the phone off the cradle. I passed it to my dad with a sweet, over-the-top smile. He chuckled and took the phone from my hand. 

As he dialed the number that was etched on the back of a business card crumpled in his hand, he stood up and left the dining room for privacy. I didn't mind not being able to hear the conversation. The comfort of knowing that he was going to ask was enough for me.

But why? Why had this obviously troubled teenager had such an impact on me? It wasn't the fact that he was famous… I was enthralled by him many hours before I even knew of his fame. Maybe it was his looks, but I didn't want to admit to being so shallow.

Maybe it was the idea that someone so physically beautiful had issues. I guess I just didn't believe that someone so perfect could have hidden skeletons that he needed to sort out with a psychiatrist.

Maybe it was the danger of what he was that kept me so fascinated.

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	3. Chapter 3

Searching for Joseph Jonas

Chapter Three

"Are you sure you have everything?" Mom asked, placing her hands on my shoulders. Her blue eyes bore into mine with worry. "Where's your toiletry bag?" she panicked. I laughed and unzipped my suitcase to assure her that my light purple bag of tooth paste and junk was nestled safely inside.

"Are you sure you want to go?" she asked me. I nodded.

"Mom, I'll be fine. Don't worry."

She gave me a hesitant look before casting a glance out the doorway at my dad, who was lifting his suitcases in the trunk of my BMW. Her lips were pressed firmly into a line, as if she were completely reconsidering her decision to let me go. If one of the people who would be with me hadn't been clinically insane, she might have had an easier time with it. What else was to be expected from a worrisome mother?

After a painfully long, bone-crushing hug, Mom let us get in the car and drive off down the street, waving to us until we disappeared around the corner. After a few tries, I had finally convinced my dad to let me drive to where the Jonas Brothers' tour buses were parked, since he wasn't so blessed in the directions department.

"Are you excited?" Dad asked about five minutes after leaving home, angling his body toward me slightly. I shrugged and kept my eyes on the road.

"I don't know," I said, which wasn't true at all. I was very excited. Probably more excited than I had reason to be. I didn't want to tell him that.

"I think it will be fun for you, despite the boring lulls. Joseph's your age, you know."

I nodded, "I know. What are you saying? You iwant/i me to be friends with a crazy person?"

Dad sighed. "I told you I didn't think he was crazy."

I nodded, biting down on my lip to keep myself from saying, "That doesn't mean he isn't." At this point, I didn't want my dad to keep me from hanging around Joseph just because of whatever condition his mind was in.

"Cool," I said simply. We drove for the rest of the fifteen minute ride in complete silence, but I didn't mind at all. It gave me time to think, and that had always been valuable to me.

When I pulled into the parking lot, there were several long tour buses parked in a straight line. We got out of my BMW and walked up to a man I assumed Dad knew, because they shook each others hands with familiar smiles and didn't ask for the other's name.

"This is Kevin Jonas. Kevin, this is my daughter, Julie." We shook hands, but I stared up at him blankly in response to his warm smile.

"…You're one of the Jonas Brothers?" There was no way he was young enough to be one of the brothers, but I could have sworn that one of them had been named Kevin.

The man laughed, "No, they're my sons."

"Ah," I smiled, nodding.

"Would you like to meet them? I think they are still in the tour bus. I'm sure they won't mind you going in to say hello."

"That's okay," I answered. "I don't want to bother them." That was a lie. I would have given anything to say hello to Joseph, but I didn't want him to notice my unexplainable fascination with him. I didn't want his father to notice, either.

Mr. Jonas shook his head and chuckled lightly. He was far too friendly for someone who was talking to the daughter of a man who was analyzing his insane spawn's brain for a living. "They won't be bothered, trust me."

Mr. Jonas started leading us toward the first tour bus in the parking lot without another word, and I trailed after him and my father in silence. I could barely hear their conversation over the loud excitement buzzing in my ears, but I managed to catch a few words, such as "afternoon" and "show." Maybe they were planning a therapist session later in the iafternoon/i before the ishow./i

Mr. Jonas pushed open the door to the bus when we reached it and hollered, "Everyone decent?"

iMore than decent/i I thought to myself as soon as my gaze fell on Joseph, who was sprawled out on the sofa with his hands folded behind his head. He was wearing a form-fitting t-shirt that complimented the arch of his back and muscles on his chest perfectly, and I cowered behind our fathers' backs to hide my red face. That was the second time this week that I had checked the boy out shamelessly.

"Yeh," someone grunted. I peered around Mr. Jonas's shoulder to see his two other sons playing some video game with intense expressions on their faces. I smiled lightly and stepped away from the two men slightly.

"Can you pause that? You have company," Mr. Jonas said. I was impressed by how prompt the oldest brother was in pausing the game. He was a strangely good, obedient son, a quality hard to find in teenagers nowadays.

"Hey, Dr. Beckham," Joseph said from the sofa, standing up.

"Nice to see you again, Joseph," Dad said, nodding his head at him.

I watched carefully as Joseph stretched his arms up above his head, letting the bottom of his t-shirt raise just enough to show off his toned abs. I coughed to hide my infatuation, and he looked at me, as if just noticing there was a girl in the room. In fact, everyone in the bus turned to stare at me. Lovely.

"Boys, this is Joe's, um…" Mr. Jonas paused awkwardly. "This is Dr. Beckham and his daughter, Julie."

"I'm Kevin," the oldest brother grinned, shaking my hand eagerly. The boy next to him – the one with an insane mop of wiry curls on his head – shook my hand and introduced himself as Nick with a faint smile.

"I'm Joe." I looked at Joseph in alarm, not realizing he had joined our close circle to say hello. I slowly reached for his hand and took it in my own, letting it rise and fall in slow motion. His hands were soft, but had a rough strength to them at the same time. I smiled up at him, trying in vain not to lose control, and avoided looking into his brown eyes, for obvious reasons. He gave me a small half smile that sent the butterflies in my stomach into a panic.

"I'm Julie," I said, forcing myself to let go of his warm hand. He nodded and let his arm fall to his side. Automatically, he turned his back to me and laid back down on the couch.

He stared at the television, his jaw set firmly, and didn't glance at me once.

As the rest of us continued light chatter, the other thing on my mind was the question of his sanity. At this point, I still had no idea.

And that bothered me a lot.


End file.
